Doesn't Matter
by Diary
Summary: Justin's new substitute teacher is Bobby Talercio. Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own Ugly Betty.

* * *

Alex Zamboni is staring mournfully at Miss Lincoln's empty desk.

"Cheer up," Justin says. "Your mom's going to her baby shower, isn't she?"

"Seeing her is the one thing that makes my day worthwhile," Alex sighs, dramatically.

Justin pats him on the shoulder. Alex wears overalls and can't tell Marilyn Monroe from Jayne Mansfield, but he doesn't fit in with the other boys, either. Of course, no one unfairly believes he's gay, with his bizarre crush on their quirky driver's education teacher.

Miss Lincoln is twenty pounds overweight, has her classroom decorated in stars and planets, and there have been some rather interesting rumours about her baby's parentage, most of which can't be automatically dismissed. On Saturday, she was put on bed rest, and the class has been without a teacher for two days. Alex hasn't been taking the news of the new substitute well.

"Alright, class," a man says, appearing. "I'm Bobby Talercio; you can call me whatever you want."

Justin pre-emptively smacks Alex, knowing his friend will take that invitation and end up in the principal's office if Justin doesn't keep him in line.

As Alex is glaring and muttering under his breath, Justin studies the substitute, a familiar feeling sweeping over him. The man isn't from Justin's neighbourhood, but Justin can't help feel he knows him from somewhere.

"Eh, sweetie, book up," Bobby says, looking at the class bookworm.

Sighing, Justin stands up, walks over, and plucks the book from her hands, placing it on the nearby bookshelf. There's only one girl in this class, and he suspects she's only in it due to her parents' insistence. Usually, Sterling Miller takes her book away before class starts and puts it on the shelf, which she's too short to reach, but Sterling broke his leg two weeks ago and is still in the hospital.

"She doesn't hear anything when she's reading," Justin informs Bobby as the bookworm blinks, realising she's reading words that are no longer there.

"Thanks, buddy," Bobby says, smiling, intensifying Justin's feeling that they've met somewhere before.

Justin sits down, and Bobby takes roll, pausing when he gets to Justin's name. "Suarez?"

"Here," Justin says, raising his hand.

"Is your mama Hilda Suarez?"

Nodding, Justin asks, "Were you a friend of my dad's?"

"Santos," Bobby says, scoffing. Then, he winces, and Justin resists the urge to tell him he gets it. Aside from his mom and the man at the convenience store, people still don't have a high opinion of his dad.

"I mean, I'm sorry about your loss, but no, he and I were never friends. Your mom and I have a history."

"Oh," Justin says, knowing that means Bobby must be an old boyfriend. He wonders if Bobby came before or after his dad did.

…

Class didn't go too badly, Justin reflects as he packs his stuff.

Sure, Bobby Farris had almost hit a stop sign, but Bobby the teacher had managed to get the car turned around at the last second. Besides, at least, this time it wasn't a police car.

"Hey, Justin," Bobby says, coming back in. "Well, the little one's safely on her way home. What about you? Is Hilda picking you up?"

"No," Justin answers with a sigh. "She and Aunt Betty are busy, and Grandpa isn't allowed to drive after his heart attack. I'm stuck on the death trap known as the school bus."

He's tried getting older friends to give him a ride, but the problem is that his oldest friends are cheerleaders whose parents refuse to let them have boys in their cars. For everything else, Justin is too gay (even though he's not) to have around, but when it comes to the one thing where him being gay would actually be advantageous, it's no dice. Suddenly, the kid who they let go into dressing rooms with their daughters is going to end up getting leaving said daughter pregnant at fifteen.

Granted, Justin isn't sure the common knowledge of his own parents' history might not be responsible for that.

Bobby laughs, giving him a sympathetic look. "Well, if you want, I can give you a ride."

…

Once they're on their way, Bobby asks, "So, you're in drama?"

Unable to help himself, Justin blurts out, "Did you and Mom date before or after I happened?"

That causes a laugh. "Obvious, huh?"

"Kinda," Justin answers.

"Before," Bobby answers. "I made some stupid mistakes, got sent to jail, and Santos came around. I used to babysit the chipmunk. Your aunt," he clarifies before Justin can ask. "And you probably don't remember it, but I came back for your grandma's funeral. When I was busy making those stupid mistakes, Rosa was the one person who hadn't finally given up on me."

"This is just a fair warning," Justin says, "Mom has a boyfriend, and they're serious. I don't know if you have someone, but I'm just letting you know, she's not an option."

"Got it," Bobby says. "So, drama?"

"Yeah," he answers, proudly. "I started the drama club in elementary, and I've been in sixteen official plays. I once auditioned for Broadway," he finishes, proudly, firmly pushing memories of Randy away.

"Impressive. Planning to be an actor, then?"

"No," Justin answers. "Performance is an outlet, but fashion is my calling. Aunt Betty only has a few more years before she needs to go to better places so that I can join the ranks of Mode."

"That place that had the transsexual who framed her father, attacked a pregnant woman, and fled to France?"

"Uh-huh," Justin answers, excited. "Someday, Aunt Betty's going to write a book on all that's happened."

…

Prom Queen.

Prom Queen.

He was elected Prom Queen.

Justin hates his stupid school and everyone in it. Even the people who are nice to him, he hates them. He hates them for not believing him, for not reacting when it happened, and for just being teenagers. He's realised that if there's one demographic of people who actually deserve genocide, it's teenagers. Everything would be so much better if people just went from twelve to twenty.

"Just so you know," a voice says, startling him, "your mom had sneaking out down to an art by the time she was eleven. You're welcome. I was nearby, and I managed to convince them not to call the police."

Justin sighs, looking down at the nearby ducks. He knows Bobby being nearby wasn't some coincidence and wonders if it was to see his mom or aunt. "I'm not-"

"Gay? Kid, save it. What you are doesn't matter. They had no right to do that to you."

"Yeah, but I'm not."

"I believe you," Bobby says, and he sounds so sincere that Justin feels a rush of affection for him. "But it doesn't matter. You can't let what others think of you determine things. To some people, I'm always going to be a no-good thug. I'm not going to lie; sometimes, it hurts, and sometimes, it pisses me off. But I treat people with respect, demand the same respect in return, and I live my life. They had no right to do that to you, and if you're hurt, scared, angry, or just all mixed up, be that. Let your family help you. Don't sit alone in a park, trying to figure out how to convince them you are or aren't something."

"It'd be so much easier if they believed it, though," Justin insists, trying not to cry.

"Look at your family," Bobby replies. "When I was little, I thought they were legit crazy, the only exception being little Betty."

"But you admired them?"

"Well, I admired your grandmother. I, uh, really liked your mom, but I didn't respect her as much as I should have. Based on the past, your grandfather has good reason to not trust me. Now that I'm older, yeah, I do admire you and your family."

"Thanks."

Reaching over, Bobby slings an arm around his shoulders, and Justin finds himself relaxing into the touch. It's a nice, safe feeling, making him feel closer to Bobby in a way that goes beyond their physical closeness. "I'm sorry for what happened," Bobby says, softly. "And if there's anything I can do, just tell me."

Justin nods.

"You're a good kid," Bobby continues. "And I know it might not seem like it, but you'll be happier if you try not to let their thoughts get to you. Someday, you're going to be a household name. Some punk-ass kids thinking that you were gay isn't going to be important, at all."

"Okay," Justin agrees, standing. "I assume you're going to give me a ride home?"

"Of course," Bobby agrees. "Would some ice-cream cheer you up? I can call your mama, tell her everything's alright, and we can talk some more?"

"That'd be awesome," Justin answers.

"Come on, buddy," Bobby says, placing a hand on his shoulder as he leads the way.


End file.
